


Revival

by Corinna



Series: Encore Performance [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, Journalism, M/M, New York City, University of Michigan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1733393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corinna/pseuds/Corinna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling in love again is a start, but only the beginning. How do two people who have grown so far apart find a way to make a future together? </p><p>A sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1088594/chapters/2190579">Encore Performance</a>, my 2013 Klaine Advent fic, and directly references a few events in that story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pene/gifts).



> This story is for pene, who has been its most enthusiastic reader all along. Special thanks also to Wowbright for beta-reading, asking good questions, and playing along.

Kurt checks his watch as they pull up in front of his dad’s house. It’s 6:50. Last night, he made plans with his father to talk on the telephone at 7, so he knows he’ll be home by now, watching the local news or puttering around the kitchen, getting in Carole’s way. He grins when he imagines their surprise.

“Give me a minute with them, okay?” he says. “I’ll set the stage for your entrance.”

Blaine looks at him, fond and clear-eyed. “You don’t want me pulling focus.”

“No! Well, not entirely.”

“It’s okay, Kurt. Go say hi to your folks. But if you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m leaving without you. And then you’ll be trapped in the Midwest _forever_.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and climbs out of the car without responding.

Carole answers the door, and she lights up when she sees him. She throws her arms around him and hugs him tight, and he hugs her back. It feels so good to be held by her: it’s grounding, and warm. They rock side to side, not letting go. “Kurt!” she exclaims. “Oh, Kurt. It’s so good to see you.”

“Kurt?” His dad’s voice from the back of the house. “Kurt’s here?”

Kurt steps inside. “Hi, Dad.”

His father comes to meet him, his face serious and grave. He pulls Kurt off to the side, away from Carole and her excitement. “Everything okay, buddy?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m fine.”

“Cause you were pretty upset yesterday. Now you’re here? That doesn’t seem like okay.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t even considered that his dad might have been worrying about him. He feels guilty and comforted all at once. “I’m sorry. I didn’t — I was in Michigan. I got this article commissioned, and I was up there doing some reporting. I added a day to my trip right from the start so I could come and spend the evening with you guys. It was supposed to be a surprise,” he says to them both.

“That it is,” Carole says, and she puts a hand against his cheek. “It’s so good to see you, sweetie.”

“Michigan, huh?” His dad is looking at him, patient and knowing. It’s a wonder Kurt ever thought he could keep anything a secret from him.

“Yeah,” Kurt says. “I brought a guest for dinner. If that’s okay.” He reopens the door, and there’s Blaine, leaning against the side of the car, waiting patiently. He grins when Kurt waves him in.

Carole runs down the steps to hug him, and Blaine laughs as they embrace.

“That whole conversation we had is making a lot more sense,” his dad says quietly.

Kurt shrugs.

“You asked me who I’d choose, Kurt, and I’ve got to say, I would never wish away my own happiness. But in your shoes...?”

“I know,” Kurt says. “We’re working on it. Talking.”

“Good,” his dad says. “Good.” And he claps Blaine on the back as he comes up the stairs, and he welcomes him in.

* * * *

Dinner is Carole’s turkey meatloaf, spinach, and a cauliflower-mashed potatoes mix that tastes almost like the real thing. It’s all so comforting in its predictability.  

Blaine is the perfect guest, as always. He exclaims over Carole’s latest knitting project, has smart things to say about the Buckeyes and the news, and is charmingly modest about his own accomplishments. They don’t talk about why it’s been so long since they’ve seen each other.

“So,” Kurt’s dad asks at the end of the meal, “are you heading over to your parents’ place next?”

“Oh.” Blaine looks a little guilty. “I don’t know. I didn’t tell them I was coming, so...” Blaine’s parents aren’t big on surprises.

“You’re welcome to stay, of course.”

Kurt looks at his dad but there’s no expectation either way in his clear blue eyes. Dad always liked Blaine.

“The upstairs is all new since two years ago,” Kurt offers. His parents had remodeled the whole floor rather than try to figure out what to do with Finn’s room. The guest room still has part of the footprint of his old bedroom, with a window looking out onto the same oak tree, but it’s all different inside. “It’s nice.”

“Well, I mean. Thanks. I wouldn’t mind staying in the living room if that’s...” Blaine remembers the rules from high school as well as Kurt does.

“You boys are grown up now,” Carole says. She looks amused. “I think we can waive the old rules for a night.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dad says. “I’m still keeping Kurt on his curfew. Home by ten, or no allowance.”

Kurt laughs and kisses him on the temple as he gets up to clear the table.

Blaine has only ever actually _slept_ in Kurt’s bed here once, before they ever had sex, when Kurt dragged him home rather than let him drive drunk. But that was a very long time ago, and the memories that come to mind now are more vivid: Blaine on top of him, riding him, his face contorted in pleasure; Blaine beneath him as they rut against each other, young and in love and unbearably horny; Blaine’s mouth hot and urgent on Kurt’s dick. Blaine looks awkward as he climbs into bed; no doubt he remembers too.

“Kurt,” he says cautiously, “is it okay if we don’t...?”

“Of course.” Kurt has been in a low simmer of want since they got in the car in Ann Arbor. His hands are itching to touch Blaine’s skin. “Whatever you want. But my dad is up really early these days, so — this is our last chance before I go back to New York. If you want to.”

“God, Kurt.” Blaine reaches for him and stops, his hand hovering in the space between them. “It's not that. I want to.”

“But...?”

Blaine sighs. “Being here, and your parents? I mean, I love them, they're great. But they're so happy that we're back together, and we're not...”

“We're not back together.” It's harder to say than it should be. “I know. And my dad does too. I told him.”

Blaine nods sincerely. “That’s good. I just worry that, twice in three days? We’ll start acting like we’re boyfriends again, even if we say we aren’t. And I can’t do that.”

“I know.”

Blaine’s getting worked up about this. “I have to make decisions for myself, and for the work I’m doing with my friends. Not for you, not for anyone. I mean, if this warehouse of Jill’s works out, yes, sure, I’m in New York, we can see what happens. But if I have a chance to build a new life in Chicago? Or Austin? Or LA? I can’t give that up, Kurt.”

“Do you think I would ask you to?”

Blaine sighs. “I have... I _had_ a bad habit of giving up parts of myself for a relationship. I’m working on it, but —”

Kurt’s confused. That’s not the Blaine he remembers. “Like what?”

Blaine looks at him with a smirk. “Like switching high schools to be with a boy?”

“You said that was for you. For the shot at Nationals.”

“That was part of it,” Blaine says. “But it was mostly for you. To be your boyfriend. To get to kiss you every day. The makeout sessions in the janitor’s closet. That time I blew you in the choir room after glee practice?”

Kurt had jerked off to that memory for months. It still makes his cock twitch appreciatively. “But...”

“I mean, it clearly wasn’t a bad choice.” Blaine’s voice has gone lower, more intimate; they’re good memories for him too. “But it wasn’t the right choice, long-term. And it wasn’t the last time.” Blaine looks distant, remembering someone Kurt’s never heard of. Kurt wants, too late, to protect him from this guy, whoever he was. To protect Blaine from his own open heart.

Blaine was always the one who wanted love, wanted intimacy and togetherness even more than he wanted sex. At seventeen, Kurt had already resigned himself to being alone, so meeting Blaine was a gift, and every piece of the Disney romance fantasy he got to play out with him was an unimaginable prize. But Blaine was a true romantic, and he always wanted more. It was Blaine who’d started them talking about how they’d grow old together. It was Blaine’s fantasy of their first place together in New York, with a bathtub in the kitchen and sunlight streaming onto their bed, that Kurt had to let go of when he started apartment-hunting alone. It was Blaine who talked about soulmates and destiny: Kurt had always just thought he caught a lucky break.

Back in Ann Arbor, Blaine asked Kurt what had happened to him to take him away from performing. Now Kurt wants to ask Blaine the same question: what happened to you? What made you stop believing?

There’s nothing Kurt can do about that, here and now. But there’s one thing he can do, at least. “Well, you know,” he says. “I like where we are right now. I’m not ready to jump into another relationship right away. Not even with you. But I hope I don’t ever make you feel like you have to give up anything.”

Blaine smiles a little, unconvincingly.

“I mean, I don’t like Austin, because it’s too far away and I hate Texas, but Chicago isn’t that far. I could come visit. We could meet up here; my dad would like that.”

“Kurt...”

“And LA — well, it’s not like there are aren’t opportunities for me in Los Angeles as well. And I kind of miss having a car.” He’ll call his friend at Buzzfeed: they have an entertainment bureau in LA that he could write for. Or maybe Isabelle would want more fashion coverage from the West Coast. There are options.

“What?” Blaine looks confused.

“Los Angeles. If you book a pilot or just decide to stay. I go there a lot — well, I used to go there a lot for Vogue. I like it. And now I don’t have a day job keeping me in New York. So if we decided we wanted to try again at some point, I could move there.” Kurt shrugs. “It’s just a thought.”

Blaine gives him a look like he’s not sure if Kurt is joking or not. “That’s a big decision to make on the fly.”

“I’m not moving tomorrow. Geez. I’m only saying that I wouldn’t expect it to be all one-sided.”

Blaine thinks about that, lets it sink in.  Finally, he smiles. It’s tentative, but Kurt thinks it’s a real one. “You know,” he says, “that’s a lot of effort to put in just to get into my pants.”

Kurt’s beyond rolling his eyes at this point. “Blaine. It’s not a line. I’m serious.” He holds Blaine’s gaze until he thinks he’s made his point. “If we got back together, it would be a big change for both of us. And it wouldn’t work if it was all one person doing the changing. I only want us to change together. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And also, I want into your pants, but that’s a whole separate discussion.”

Blaine laughs. “Kurt, your folks are home. And probably still awake.”

“You’d be surprised. They’re usually out cold by ten these days.” But Kurt isn’t going to ask again, not with Blaine still hesitant and everything between them so new. So he snuggles into his pillow and tries to think sleepy, unsexy thoughts. “You’re right. We should get some rest. It’ll be an early start tomorrow.”

Blaine turns off the bedside lamp and lies down next to him. His breath is slow and steady almost immediately. Kurt burrows under the blankets, but rest doesn’t come. Being this close to Blaine and still so far, it’s bringing back bad memories. The night they broke up, when he’d tried to fall asleep even as Blaine wept into the other pillow. He’d never given Blaine a chance to really explain or make amends after that; he’d just ended things. He’d done his own share of crying in that bed after Blaine left, but at least he’d had Rachel. They’d been so much closer then. He wonders whose shoulder Blaine had to cry on.

“Blaine,” he whispers, “are you asleep?”

“Mmm,” Blaine hums. “What’s up?”

“Can I — would it be okay if we held hands?”

“What?” He feels Blaine move on the bed, pulling himself up to lean on his elbow; his eyes catch the dim light coming in from the street. “Of course it would.”

Blaine wraps his fingers around Kurt’s and smiles down at him. Kurt holds on tight and tries to smile back.

“You are so lovely,” Blaine says, and it’s like a secret.

Kurt can feel himself blush. “You can’t even see me. It’s too dark.”

“I can see you just fine.” Blaine leans over to kiss him, and Kurt opens his mouth eagerly to deepen it. It’s Blaine, and they’ve kissed like this a hundred times, in this bed or a bed like it, but somehow it’s all new. By the time they pull apart, both of them are breathing hard.

“Uh, yeah,” Blaine says. “So I think I’ve changed my mind.”

Kurt isn’t sure what Blaine means by it, until Blaine leans over to kiss him again, and his free hand moves down to brush against Kurt’s dick.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Yeah. Yeah.” This is a much better plan than trying not to think about sex. He starts pawing clumsily at the hem of Blaine’s t-shirt. “I want to blow you. Is that okay?”

“That is more than okay,” Blaine says, and he settles back onto the bed. He tugs Kurt’s hand until Kurt moves too, and he pulls him in for another kiss.

Kurt could stay like this for a while, elbows bracing himself on top of Blaine and kissing him hot and dirty. They had fucked back in Blaine’s room in Ann Arbor, but that had been sex: getting each other off, drunk on adrenaline and cheap beer. Now Kurt wants to take his time, and oh, it’s so sweet, all of it: the way Blaine wriggles as Kurt makes his way down his body, the way his hand threads through Kurt’s hair. When Kurt finally takes Blaine in his mouth, the sound he makes is somewhere in between surprise and relief.

It’s familiar and delicious in all the best ways, taking Blaine deep and sucking him hard. He pulls back to tease him, lick at him, and the sounds that Blaine is making turn small and needy and so unbelievably hot. His hand is on his own cock as he goes down on Blaine again, and when Blaine comes hot and messy in his mouth, Kurt follows him over the edge.

Blaine pulls him close for a kiss. Kurt lets himself get wrapped up in Blaine’s arms, so welcoming and strong, even though he’s sticky with his own come and sweat. Blaine frowns a little at him when they pull apart. “You came already?”

“Uh huh.” Kurt’s still a little buzzy from it. He sits up to grab a tissue from the bedside table to clean himself off a little. He hates waking up messy.

“I would have — you didn’t have to do that, Kurt.”

“You make it sound like it was a chore,” Kurt says. “You were super-hot with all the wriggling and the noises. It just happened.”

Blaine laughs incredulously and shakes his head. “I missed you.”

Even with his back half-turned and his attention on tissuing off his stomach, Kurt can feel Blaine go still after he says it. The energy in the room shifts to something wary and waiting. He finishes cleaning himself off, moving slowly, and deliberately not looking back at Blaine. It’s like he’s trying not to spook him, though he’s not sure why. Kurt throws the tissue at the trash bin and a _thunk_ in the dark tells him that it went in. Then he lies down and pulls the covers back over himself. The warmth of Blaine next to him makes the bed cozier than usual.

“I missed you too,” he says.

It takes a while, but Blaine reaches out his hand again.  Kurt takes it in his own without a word, and ends up looking at the ceiling again after Blaine has dozed off, wondering what just happened.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine graduates from college the first week of May. Cooper cancels at the last minute, so there’s a ticket to the commencement for Kurt to use.

He and Blaine have been talking and texting and Skyping for two months now, and it’s been good. Blaine even visited New York once, three days of job interviews and fantastic sex. When Jill’s cousin’s brother-in-law finds the Supernova kids a warehouse in Queens, a technically illegal rental with two floors of living space and access to the roof, the question of where Blaine will end up is settled. They’re going to move in by July and have a rooftop party for Independence Day. Kurt’s carefully optimistic about all of it.

The Supernovas are determined to stay out the night before graduation: one last epic party. Kurt joins them for a first round and some burgers at the Brown Jug, but it’s too loud and he’s never really been a beer guy anyway. “Call me if you need to be picked up,” he tells them all, even though his rental car is tiny and everywhere they’re planning on going is walking distance from the house.

“You can stay if you want,” Blaine says.

Kurt shakes his head. “This is your graduation with your friends. You should celebrate it with them. Besides, I could use the sleep.”

He actually ends up staying awake for a while, chatting with Rachel over Skype about her next cabaret night. They’re doing a duet, and they debate forever over where it should go in the set list. Mending fences with her is a slow process, but it’s so far a good one. He falls asleep on top of the covers on Blaine’s bed, and when he wakes up way too early in the morning, he’s still alone. He avoids the commencement traffic and walks south to the stadium, coffee cup in hand, blinking as the sun peeks out from the morning fog.

He finds Blaine’s parents already in their seats; they’re politely pleasant to him, which is better than he was expecting. The three of them make conversation about the weather and the drive from the airport and the commencement speaker until the graduates start streaming onto the field. Blaine had warned him, so Kurt brought his opera glasses, but it’s still just a flood of black robes until he spots Andy, half a head taller than anyone else around him, and he’s got a star drawn in white on the top of his mortarboard. All the Supernovas are helpfully clustered around him. When Kurt finally spots Blaine, he shares his glasses with the Andersons and points them to the spot.

Kurt was already working pretty much full-time at Vogue when he finished his NYADA coursework, so he hadn’t even bothered to go to graduation. But even if he had, it would have been nothing like this giant ceremony in this rumbling, cavernous space. The commencement speaker’s voice echoes against the sides of the stadium, and when they sing “Hail to the Victors,” the roar of it buzzes through Kurt’s bones. Down on the field, Blaine and his friends are swaying back and forth as they sing along, their arms around each other’s shoulders.  

After it’s all over, there’s a party at the Supernova house. The parents of the graduates have all chipped in, and there’s a lunch buffet in the backyard with sandwiches and salads and a couple of kegs of beer. It’s just warm enough for it to be pleasant to stand around outside and eat and talk and meet people. Blaine comes by for a hug and a fervent kiss and then he’s off again, swept up by the wave of his friends. He’s so happy, and deservedly so. It’s wonderful to see.

Kurt’s leaning against the back of the house, watching the party and resting his feet a bit. Another guy comes up to stand next to him. He’s blond and preppy-looking, and a little shorter than Kurt. He’s wearing a CLASS OF 2017 pin, so he must be a graduate. “Congratulations,” Kurt says.

“Thanks.” The guy tips his plastic cup at Kurt, and they toast. There’s a whiff of whiskey rather than beer before he takes a gulp. “You a student?”

“Just a friend of the troupe.”

The guy narrows his eyes a little as he looks at Kurt. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Ted Creighton.” When Kurt looks blank, he goes on. “I used to be their business manager.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Kurt.” They shake hands as Kurt says. “Business manager, huh?” Blaine never mentioned a business manager, though it makes sense. They’ve certainly got more financial savvy than most theater majors Kurt has known.

“Yep,” says Ted. He takes another swallow of his drink. “I taught those crazy kids everything they know about a spreadsheet. And look at them now.” He’s charmingly self-deprecating, and Kurt likes him.

“They don’t need your help anymore?”

“Oh,” Ted shrugs. “I got busy. Besides, they need to learn to fly without the magic feather, right?”

Kara comes over just then, looking beautiful and even more annoyed than usual. “Teddy,” she says. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It’s good to see you too.” Ted takes another sip of his drink.

“Kurt,” Kara says, “maybe you should come talk to me and Sally. She says she needs fashion advice.”

“Sally?” says Ted. “That girl from your dance history class, right? You two finally hooked up?”

Kara ignores him. “Come on,” she tells Kurt. “We’re right over there.” She points to the other side of the yard. Blaine is talking to Kara’s girlfriend, who's wearing a truly hideous hat.

That’s all the incentive Kurt needs. “It was nice to meet you,” he tells Ted, and they’re gone.

He doesn’t think about the conversation again until the party’s winding down and people are starting to go home. He’s talking to Blaine and Jill about their plans for the warehouse when Ted comes by again. “Well, hello, hello,” he says. The smell of scotch is a little stronger.

Blaine is on guard immediately. “Teddy.”

“Blaine,” Ted says. “How the hell are you?”

“What are you doing here?” Blaine asks, and Kurt was paying attention before, but now he’s really watching, because Blaine’s never that brusque with anyone.

“I’m sorry, the party invite was posted in the Facebook group. I didn’t realize it included everyone but me.”

Blaine sighs. “I meant, I thought you’d be with your parents.”

“Well, I’m not technically graduating until December. I took a little time off,” he tells Kurt, “to work on my startup idea.” He’s speaking very precisely. “But I couldn’t get funding, so I’m back. And I’ll have some time between here and b-school, which will be good.”

“That’s great,” Blaine says. He sounds tired.

“I mean, it might have worked. If I had a supportive partner. It wasn’t a gajillion hits on YouTube, which you wouldn’t even have if I hadn’t budgeted for a decent camera. But at least I didn’t ditch my boyfriend and start fucking strangers.”

Blaine bristles, but doesn’t say anything.

Kurt steps forward so he’s half-shielding Blaine with his body. “Maybe that’s enough,” he says.

Ted laughs. “You’re the new guy? And your name’s Kurt, right? Kurt?” He looks past Kurt to Blaine. “Another Kurt. Like, how sad are you, Blaine?”

“Okay, that’s definitely enough,” Jill says. “Teddy, it’s time to go home now.”

“You just always take his side, don’t you.” Ted shakes his head disgustedly. “All of you ganging up on me. I never stood a chance.” He swallows down the rest of his drink, throws the plastic cup on the ground, and stalks off.

In the silence, Jill leans over to pick up the cup. She crumples it in her hand.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asks.

“I’m fine,” Blaine says. His voice sounds tight. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s okay.” He wants to say more, but just then Blaine’s mother comes out from the house to find him. Blaine turns on his brightest show smile, and the moment is over.

* * * *

That night, there’s an epic round-robin singalong at the Supernova house. Blaine takes the lead on a few numbers, but he bows out early. He’s looked tired since the encounter with his ex at the party. Kurt wants to go with him, but Blaine just smiles and shakes his head. “Wake me up if I doze off,” he says, and with a kiss to the top of Kurt’s head, he’s gone.

Kurt lasts about ten minutes before he’s itching to go after him. Jill puts a hand on his arm to keep him from leaving. “Blaine needs some alone time when he’s like this,” she says.

The Blaine that Kurt knew never needed alone time. When he was sad, or upset, or confused, he wanted to be held, or to hold Kurt tight. But Jill and his other friends here have known Blaine a lot longer by now than Kurt ever did. They know the man he is now. Kurt forces himself to wait. At least there’s singing to keep his mind off it.

When he finally makes it up to Blaine’s room, Blaine’s still wide awake. He’s sitting in the chair by the window in his pajamas, reading one of the _Lord of the Rings_ books. He must have read those books a hundred times by now.

“I hope we weren’t too loud downstairs.”

“No. You guys sounded great. You had fun?”

“Yeah, absolutely. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

Kurt gives him his most skeptical eyebrow raise.

“I am,” Blaine insists. He marks his page and puts the book away. “It’s been a long day, and — I’m sorry you had to see all that at the party. I wanted this trip to be a celebration.”

“It still is.” Kurt sits on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Blaine shrugs. “I’m just sorry it ended like that. It didn’t have to be so ugly.” He shakes his head. “But that’s Teddy for you.”  

“How long were you together?” The old hurt claws at him, thinking of Blaine with someone else. But Blaine is so completely here now, so present with him and listening, that it’s really no more than a scratch.

“Maybe a year and half. Almost as long as you and me. That was a thing for him; he couldn’t wrap his head around having a serious boyfriend in high school, and I think he was jealous. But he didn’t even come out to his parents until after we started dating.”

“What happened?”

“You saw. He drinks.” Blaine gets up and sits next to Kurt on the bed. “He’s not like that when he’s sober. He’s funny, and he’s sweet, and —”

“I met him earlier. He seemed nice.”

Blaine seems relieved that Kurt believes him. “So you know. Yeah. I fell pretty hard for him, sophomore year. We were good together, for a while, and it was serious: I mean, we even talked about living together off-campus. But the drinking got bad. Or maybe it was always bad and I didn’t know.” He gets quiet again.

“And that’s why you broke up with him?”

“I wish.” Blaine laughs a little, unhappily. “You and me, when I felt you slipping away? I didn’t know how to fix it, and I didn’t really try. So with Teddy, I thought, well, if I love him, I should hold onto him. Hold on, and try to fix him, and take care of him.” Blaine shakes his head. “That doesn’t work either.”

All sorts of awful images flash through Kurt’s mind. It’s possible he’s seen too many Lifetime movies. “So what happened?” he asks.

“Eventually, it just got to be too much. I blamed myself, and — my friends, they helped me so much, Kurt. I mean, Kara comes off all tough, but she’s the best. Totally the person you want in your corner. I saw a therapist. I did a group thing. But it was mostly having friends. Friends who believed in me as me, and not just someone’s boyfriend.” Blaine nods a little, remembering. “It took a while, because we’d gotten so, I don’t know, caught up in each other? But I did, I broke up with him. And I learned that you can’t make someone else do what you want them to do, and you can’t base your life on making someone else happy. You have to love yourself best.”

Kurt isn’t sure what to say. He loves this boy so much, still. But it’s like he hasn’t known him half as well as he thought. Or maybe he did? Blaine had told him about his fears long before he left Lima. But Kurt had thought they were just a version of the nerves thrumming under his own skin: the dizzy rush of growing up. It had never occurred to him — not even on the nights he stayed up drinking with Rachel and Santana, trying to piece it all together — that Blaine had needed him so much.

He wants to protest that he never slipped away from Blaine, that it was Blaine who cut the ties between them. But that’s not what Blaine needs to hear right now. Besides which, he’s starting to realize, talking it through on Skype calls and in long emails, that maybe it isn’t entirely true.

“You should always love yourself first, and most,” he says carefully. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t love someone else. You can have friends and a life, and still have a partner. That’s what everybody wants, right? That person who loves you best for who _you_ are, all of it.”

Blaine just looks at him, skeptical and amused. Kurt isn’t sure what he finds funny — the idea of a real romantic partner, or that it’s Kurt, with all the history between them, suggesting it. So instead of talking, Kurt just leans over and does what he used to do best: audition for the role.

Blaine’s mouth is soft and lush, but he’s letting himself be kissed rather than kissing Kurt back. So Kurt holds him by the chin, pulls him closer, tries to show just with his kiss how much he means all the things he still can’t quite say. Blaine shifts on the bed, coming closer, and his hands brace Kurt’s head, cradling him, and oh, that’s right, that’s how it should be.

“Come on,” Kurt says breathlessly. “Let’s go to bed.”

It’s the work of a minute to be naked with Blaine again on his bed, kissing and lazily rutting against each other. Blaine kisses him along his cheekbones, nips at his ear, and Kurt urges him on with kisses and touch. Then Blaine finds that spot beneath his jaw, the one that feels like it’s hot-wired to his dick, and Kurt bucks up on the bed with the sensation. The first time Blaine kissed him there, in the heady days when kissing was new, he’d whited out and come in his pants. He’s got more control now, but it’s still more erotic than it has any right to be. It makes him want more.

Blaine’s hand is still cupped warm against his neck, his fingers shiveringly caressing the base of Kurt’s hairline. Kurt takes hold of it and puts Blaine’s fingers in his mouth. Blaine looks up from where he’s kissing across Kurt’s collarbone. He looks a little confused, but interested.

Kurt sucks and tongues at Blaine’s fingers until he’s got Blaine’s full attention, and Blaine’s eyes are wide and dark. Then deliberately, not turning his gaze away, he takes Blaine’s hand and guides it down his body to where he wants it, low on his ass.

Blaine’s breath stutters. “Yeah?”

He understands Blaine’s surprise. It took him a long time to get comfortable with the idea of bottoming, although Blaine’s enthusiasm for it had certainly sparked his curiosity. It was one of the last first times they’d taken from each other, one lazy late-winter afternoon when Blaine’s parents were away. There had only been a few more times after that first. Time and experience and a lot of exploration have made Kurt much more comfortable with bottoming, but it still isn’t usually what he thinks of when he wants sex. Except when it is.

“Yeah.” Kurt smiles and leans up to kiss him hard.

“Yeah, okay.” Blaine leans over him to open the nightstand and fumble for supplies. All the time, he’s stroking the sensitive skin behind Kurt’s balls, gentle and tantalizing. It’s gorgeous. Kurt shifts on the bed to move into it.

“I want... _oh_. I like it, oh, the other way. Hands and knees. I can —”

“Shh. We’ll get there.” Blaine kisses him again as he closes the nightstand. “You want to roll over?”

It’s easier on his stomach, with a pillow beneath him. He can move his hips as Blaine so carefully works him open, and the friction against his cock is just enough. The sheets are cool beneath him even as his skin is heating up. Blaine kisses his shoulders, his spine, the curve of his back. The want for it, for Blaine inside him, keeps getting stronger, and he’s ready sooner than he expected to be. He braces himself against the headboard as Blaine pushes in.

The ridiculousness of sex always makes him self-conscious: the slap of skin on skin, the squishiness, the awkward positions. But when Blaine bottoms out inside him, all of that falls away, and instinct takes over. It’s better than he remembers it being, and he arches into it, needing more. “Oh, yes. Like that, Blaine. Oh.”

“Yeah, okay,” Blaine says. He starts to move, and then he stops.

Kurt groans with frustration.

“Hold on.” Blaine rubs a soothing circle against Kurt’s back and he shifts his weight. His cock moves just a little bit inside of Kurt and it’s uncomfortably like being teased. Kurt’s about to say something, suggest they try something else, when Blaine takes hold of his hips and starts moving, and there’s nothing to say after that.

Kurt usually spends a lot of energy during sex in making sure he’s being a good partner. That he’s giving the guy he’s with what he needs too. But tonight, he wants to let go and give everything over to Blaine. He lets his head hang heavy and his eyes drift half-shut as Blaine starts moving again.

Blaine is deep inside him, and he feels full, and not full enough. It feels so good to have Blaine there with him: his hands, his murmurs, his cock. Kurt feels wound up with it, ready to explode, and when Blaine fucks him hard and sweet and slow he can’t help crying out. “God, _yes_ , Blaine. Yes. Please, yes.”

“I’ve got you,” Blaine says, breathless. “I’ve — oh, Christ. _Kurt_.”

All Kurt can do in response is to moan, long and wordless. Blaine feels so big and gorgeous inside him, and Kurt just wants more. Blaine’s arms are wrapped around him, holding them both up, and every time he moves Kurt can feel it all the way up his spine. Blaine is grunting low with the effort of every thrust, and it’s turning Kurt on even more to hear how hard Blaine is working to make him shake and come apart and scream.

When Blaine’s hand moves to his cock, Kurt cries out again, both because it feels good and also because he’s not ready for it to be over yet. He wants to stay like this, with Blaine inside him, for as long as he can. But they’re moving faster, more urgently together. Blaine’s breath is hot against his skin, and he knows Blaine has to be close too. He leans back, wanting to feel the weight of Blaine on top of him. Just as Blaine rests his head on Kurt’s shoulderblade, Kurt comes, an intense shudder of pleasure.

Blaine starts moving faster, and Kurt knows he’s trying to get himself off before Kurt gets over-sensitive or uncomfortable. “Wait,” he says. “Blaine, stop.”

Blaine stops almost immediately. “Kurt? Are you all right? Should I —”

“No, wait.” Blaine pulls out and it’s like being emptied, like part of himself is missing. Kurt turns around and wraps his arms around Blaine’s neck, kissing him. “I want you... I want to kiss you while you come,” he says. Blaine groans into his neck at the thought of it. “Come on,” Kurt says, and guides them both back down onto the bed, Blaine on top of him. He wraps his legs around Blaine’s waist. “Please, Blaine,” he says.

Blaine looks overwhelmed as he presses back in. Kurt closes his eyes and shudders around him. The sensation is almost too much. When he opens his eyes again, Blaine is watching him, trembling a little from the effort to stay still, but concerned.

“Come on,” Kurt says again, and kisses him.

Blaine starts to move again. It’s right on the edge of being uncomfortably intense, but Kurt doesn’t want to think about that. He focuses his attention instead on Blaine. Blaine, who’s looking at him like he’s something precious. Kurt reaches up and cradles Blaine’s face in his hands, and he kisses Blaine again as Blaine thrusts inside him. He can’t get Blaine close enough, can’t touch enough of his beautiful face and his warm smooth skin. When Blaine comes with a gasp against Kurt’s lips, Kurt kisses him and kisses him until his lips are half-numb with it.

Blaine pulls out again, more slowly, and deposits the condom in the trashcan by his bed. Kurt still feels charged up from the sex, like all the nerve endings on his skin are twice as sensitive as usual. He wants Blaine close again, and when Blaine lies back down, Kurt curls into him, shaping his body against Blaine’s. The heat and the scent of him is soothing. When Blaine puts an arm around him, Kurt’s eyes flutter closed, and he falls asleep like that, held and secure.

He wakes up in the morning with sunlight streaming onto Blaine’s bed. Blaine is sitting in his chair again, reading and drinking coffee from a mug that says GO BLUE! “Good morning,” he says as Kurt stirs. “Sleep well?”

Kurt nods and blinks hazily at him. Blaine’s fully dressed already, every strand of hair in place and his bowtie perfectly knotted. But the look he has for Kurt is still intimate and warm.

“How are you feeling?”

Kurt thinks about it for a moment before he answers. “Good.” His body feels the way it feels after a long run, or a three-hour yoga class: comfortably achey. Well used. “I feel good.”

Blaine flushes a little as he smiles. “That’s good. I brought you breakfast.” He leans down and picks up a Thermos to show Kurt. “Coffee, and one of Josh’s muffins. Banana-coconut and oat flour. They’re really good.”

“Oh.” It’s not that Kurt’s ungrateful, exactly. He loves the idea of breakfast in bed, although he’d rather have it served on a chic bedroom tray, preferably one designed by Jonathan Adler. Not that he’s picky. He’s warmed by Blaine’s thoughtfulness. But he has to pee and he probably needs to shower, and he’s not all that excited to put either of those things off. “Um. Where are my clothes?”

“What am I thinking? Of course, you want to freshen up.” Blaine gets up and pulls a plaid bathrobe out of his closet. It’s a little too small, and it smells faintly of Blaine’s aftershave. “Take all the time you need.”

Kurt pees quickly and then spends longer than he’d planned to in the shower, letting the hot water slough off the haziness of sleep.  When he comes back to Blaine’s room, Blaine’s still there, reading his book.

“I could’ve met you downstairs,” Kurt says. “I mean, it’s very sweet of you to wait, and bring me muffins, but...”

Blaine drops his head and looks away. “Yeah. Maybe you don’t want to go downstairs just yet?”

“Oh my God. What happened? Did someone hurl in the kitchen?” The house isn’t up to Kurt’s standards of cleanliness on a good day.

“No. Um, it’s just, when I went down there before, I got a round of applause.” Blaine flushes red. “I mean, we were pretty loud last night. So I thought...”

“Oh.” Blaine is so embarrassed that Kurt’s first instinct is to be embarrassed too. But he realizes that actually, he isn’t. “Were they cruel?”

“No.” Blaine looks shocked at the idea. “They’re my friends, Kurt. They would never be cruel. Andy did say something about your vocal range, but I think he was more impressed by it than anything.”

“Okay.” Kurt thinks about it. “But it bothers you.”

“My friends listening to us?” Blaine winces. “Yeah. It’s just...”

“They have to know we have sex.” Talking like this, Kurt feels powerful. Brazen, even, maybe. He feels... _different_ this morning, and this is what it’s done to him. He walks towards Blaine. “Does it matter that they know that I liked it? That I liked what you did to me?”

“Kurt.” The book drops from Blaine’s hand.

It’s a simple gesture to let the bathrobe fall open, and then he’s standing there half-naked and totally shameless. Blaine is wide-eyed and staring. “How good you made me feel.” He leans over and runs an index finger slowly up the curve of Blaine’s neck and chin. “How good we are together.”

Blaine makes an urgent sound in the back of his throat, and he pushes himself out of the chair and into Kurt’s arms. They kiss fiercely, like claiming, teeth clacking as they pull each other close.

Blaine pushes the robe off Kurt’s shoulders and Kurt shivers with it, the power and the vulnerability of being naked in Blaine’s arms like this. He wants to mess Blaine up too, so he reaches for an end of his bowtie and pulls loose the knot. He’s working on the top button on Blaine’s shirt when Blaine starts walking them towards his bed. Kurt stumbles backwards, lets himself fall backwards onto the bed, legs spread wantonly, and he smiles.

Blaine kneels down at the foot of the bed. “God, Kurt.” He kisses the tender skin of Kurt’s inner thigh. “So good.”

“Please,” Kurt says.

Blaine nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Kurt?”

Kurt would give him anything he wants right now, anything. “Yeah?”

“My parents will be here soon.”

“Oh.” The mood’s sort of shot. Kurt props himself up on his elbows.

“So,” Blaine says, and his smile turns wicked. “If you’re going to make noise, you might want to go _fortissimo_.” The loudest possible. He puts his hands on Kurt’s thighs, and swallows him down.

“Oh, my God.” Kurt laughs as he falls back again. “You _perv_.”


	3. Chapter 3

It’s a miserable midsummer day in New York, and the subway stations are all humid swamps of body odor and urine stench. Even late at night, Kurt can barely stand to wait for his train.

It finally pulls into the station, a blast of heat in its wake, and he steps inside, grateful for the air conditioning and the silence. The subway car is less than half full, and most of the passengers are reading, or dozing, or staring at their cell phones. He sits down on a bench by himself and tries to relax.

The book party he’d been to that night was fine — they’re always at least a little enjoyable. But since he’s become a full-time freelance writer, parties like this are work. He keeps track of the editors he’s working with, the ones he’s been pitching, the ones he doesn’t know yet but wants to meet. The _Vanity Fair_ piece had opened some doors, but it’s his job now to keep them open, and make sure he walks through. He’s getting better at this part of it, the social work of maintaining a freelance journalism career, but it still wears him out. Between pitching to editors and building a music career, he sometimes he feels like all he does all day is try to make people like him.

The train shudders its way down from the Upper West Side. He checks his watch: 12:15 am. Blaine’s probably in bed by now. He’s got a day job with a theatrical producer, and he has to get up in the morning. It’s too late to bother him, maybe. Or maybe not. The train pulls into the 42nd Street station, and before he thinks about it, Kurt's out of his seat and changing for a Queens-bound 7.

When he gets to the warehouse, there are still a few people hanging out in the living room, the ceiling fan and some room fans whirring gently around them.

Kara is rubbing her foot: waiting tables isn’t for the weak. “He went to bed half an hour ago,” she says. “Want some wine?”

“Okay.” Kurt had skipped the booze at the party, trying to stay sharp, and he could use a drink now. He gets himself a glass from the kitchen.

They sit together for a while, him and Kara and Jill and Andy. Kurt massages Kara's feet for her, and they talk about Jill’s terrible new boss and Andy’s girlfriend woes. They ask after Rachel and Mercedes, and he passes on their latest news, as well as the little celebrity gossip he learned at tonight’s event. He can feel his shoulders relax as the company and the wine soothe his jangled nerves. But it’s not more than half an hour before relaxation’s sliding into something deeper, and his eyes are starting to droop. “I think I’m turning in, guys.”

“Me too,” says Jill. She stands and stretches. “Good night, Kurt. See you in the morning.”

Blaine’s little bedroom has a window air conditioner that does a reasonable job of keeping the space cool at night. Which is good, because Blaine can’t sleep without a blanket. Even now, when the temperatures have been in the 90s for days, he’s there on his bed, wrapped up in a grey cotton comforter. He’s so beautiful like this, untroubled and dreaming. Kurt undresses quickly and slides in next to him.

“Wha —” Blaine startles awake, then relaxes. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How was your party?”

“Fine.”

“Did you _schmooze_ anyone good?” Blaine rolls the word around in his mouth like a delicacy.

“Mmm.” Kurt thinks back. “Chris from _New York_. We had a good conversation. I like his wife. And um, Leslie from _Marie Claire_. They pay on time.” She’d given Kurt a really tough edit on his last piece, but he was trying to not hold a grudge. “How about you? How was work?”

“There were two backer meetings today. Scott says he’s ‘cautiously optimistic.’” Blaine’s voice drops and gets Californian, a pretty good parody of his boss’s accent. “But he also says no one’s going to commit to anything until after Labor Day, so...”

“Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you guys anyway.”

“Thanks.” Blaine yawns. “Did you say you were coming over? I didn’t forget, did I?”

“No,” Kurt says. “It’s okay, right? Should I have called?”

“Totally okay. It’s a nice surprise.”

Blaine shifts closer on the bed. He rests his head on Kurt’s chest, spooning himself around Kurt. Kurt holds him in his arms and feels the last of the day’s tensions falling away at last.

“I just needed to be here,” he says into the dark.

He can feel Blaine’s smile against his shoulder. “You said this place was, and I quote, a Noah’s Ark of urban vermin.”

It’s true: the warehouse hasn’t been used for anything other than storage in years, and it shows. There are roaches and caterpillars and flies, and calling all the mice “Fievel” doesn’t make them less disgusting, or easier to kill. The Supernovas are working on it, but it’s still a dusty, infested mess. Still, that’s not enough to keep him from coming back.

“I meant, here,” he says, and tightens his grip around Blaine’s waist, just for a moment.

“Oh,” Blaine says. He snuggles in on top of Kurt, holding him and being held. “Good. I want you here too. Any time.” He places a small, soft kiss against Kurt’s breastbone. “Except on Tuesday, because I have a breakfast meeting Wednesday morning.”

Blaine’s so playful and serious all at the same time, and Kurt laughs softly at the delight of it. “Okay. Deal.” He kisses the top of Blaine’s head, all sweet-smelling ridiculous product, and he closes his eyes. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy.


	4. Chapter 4

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Kurt says, and he really can’t. Mercedes lives in Los Angeles, and he sees her in choppy video calls and when she sings on TV, but they haven’t been together in person in over a year and a half. Just being around her now feels warm and right. He’s missed her more than he realized.

“Of course I am, boo,” Mercedes says, and she hugs him again. “You think I would miss my boy’s big shindig?”

“It’s just a New Year’s Eve thing,” Kurt reminds her. “Not the Costume Institute gala or something like that. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“It’s your party. Well, and Rachel and Santana’s too. But also Blaine!” She squeezes his arm. “That makes it special.”

He knows his grin is dopey, but he can’t stop himself. “Yeah. It sort of does.”

“Oh, Kurt,” she says, and is she really going to cry? “I am so, so happy for you.” For a second, she looks like she’s going to say something else, but then she steps back and gives him a determined smile. “But first, I want you to take me shopping. Because if we’re all singing at this party, you know I need some good dancing shoes.”

The place they rent to hold the party reminds Kurt a little of his first apartment in Brooklyn with Rachel: another loft with unfinished walls and scuffed up floors. But this is an event space, so the scuffs are all carefully maintained, and they sign paperwork promising not to damage anything. Kurt prepares most of the snacks, and Rachel and Blaine handle the decorations. Santana arranges for the stage and the amplifiers. “Losers,” she says when they’re finished setting everything up, “if this party doesn’t rock, it won’t be because of the sound system.”

There are disadvantages to having so many performers as friends: the drama level can veer way out of control. But they are fantastic guests for a party where there's going to be a lot of singing. People they know from NYADA, from the diner, from Rachel’s shows, from high school — all of them are eager to jump on stage, confer with the band, and belt out a song. Trent and a few other former Warblers pull out some familiar dance moves when it’s their turn; out of the corner of his eye, Kurt catches Blaine dancing along.

The Supernova kids arrive as a group around ten thirty, and they’re gathered up by the crowd. Some of these people are their friends now too; it’s nice to see them connecting. Blaine’s friends and his friends and their friends all together, and it’s a celebration of old and new, just like New Year’s Eve itself. Kurt’s maybe a little giddy from cheap champagne, but being here is making him happy.

“Darling!” It’s Isabelle Wright, glorious in Oscar de la Renta. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Isabelle!” They hug and cheek-kiss. “I thought you were going to be in Paris.”

“Oh, I was. For Christmas. But I _had_ to be here for — I mean, I had to be back in New York for a christening this week, so I came home early. Honey, I love what you’ve done with the place: such a great party spot. And your friends are so talented!”

Kurt lets her talk wash over him: he knows that Isabelle just keeps talking when she’s nervous, or trying to cover her tracks. He smiles and nods as the pieces of the puzzle fit together in his mind. How had he not seen this sooner?

He finds Rachel over by the drinks table and grabs her by the arm. “Come with me,” he hisses, and even though she protests, he pulls her over to a quiet corner. He uses every inch of his height advantage to loom menacingly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Rachel goes wide-eyed. But she’s used to performing on stage; her reactions are way too big one-on-one.

“Tell me —” He looks around to make sure no one’s listening. “— that Blaine is going to propose to me tonight.”

“What? Oh my God, Kurt, you’re crazy.”

“I already know, okay? You don’t have to pretend.”

She sighs in frustration. “Who told you? Was it Sam? I bet it was Sam.”

“Aha!” Kurt shakes an accusing finger at her. “So I’m not crazy.”

She slumps, defeated and apologetic all at once. “Don’t tell Blaine I said anything. He really wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well, he should know that no one gets a surprise past Kurt Hummel. And you should have told me.” Kurt’s heart is pounding. “I can’t face something this important so underprepared. I need a manicure. And this suit is from two years ago.”

“Kurt, that suit is fantastic. And is that really what you’re worrying about?”

He sighs. “I can’t. It’s too soon.” He’s known that Blaine is thinking long-term again for a while; he’s left clothes and books at Kurt’s apartment, and the cautious boundaries he’d put on their relationship have faded as they’ve found their way into being a couple again. They’ve taken their first vacation together, going to Provincetown in late August for sun and sand and late-night dance parties. Then at Thanksgiving, when they were discussing their holiday plans, Blaine said something about “maybe next year we could...” and Kurt hadn’t caught the rest of it because the blood was pounding too loudly in his ears. He’d thought he knew what his answer would be if Blaine asked.  But now, knowing the question is coming, he’s freaking out. “It’s way too soon. You have to tell him not to do it.”

“Kurt.” Rachel takes his hand. “Do you really not want to marry Blaine?”

His chest gets tight at the idea of it. “No. That’s not it. But don’t you think it’s rushing? You should know someone for a lot longer than this before you marry them. Five years at the very least. Ten, maybe.”

“And how long have you known Blaine?”

“The in-between years don’t count!”

She shakes her head at him and gives him that sad knowing smile he’s never been able to resist. “He hasn’t changed, Kurt. Not in the big ways. He’s still the same Blaine you fell in love with.”

It’s true. Blaine now is older and wiser and warier. But he’s also steadier and more certain of who he is. And the joy he has in the things he loves — his friends, his art, Kurt — that hasn’t changed at all. He’s still the most lovable man Kurt has ever known, and the most beautiful one as well.

“You know, Kurt, I have made my share of mistakes over the years,” Rachel says.

“Your share and someone else’s,” he mutters.

She rolls her eyes. “My fair share,” she repeats. “And yes, there are things I regret and things I wish I could take back. But you know what I have never regretted? Saying yes to Finn.”

He catches his breath.

She goes unfocused, like she’s remembering being there, talking to Finn in the drab McKinley corridors. “All the objections everyone had, they were right. We were way too young, and our lives were going in totally different directions. If we’d actually gotten married then, we probably would have fought all the time. But I said yes because I loved him, and I wanted to be with him, and I wanted the whole world to know it.” She smiles again. “You know I never gave the ring back? I still have it. And one of the last conversations we ever had was about how someday, when our lives lined up, we’d be together again. I believed it — and it helps me, when I miss him, to remember that he believed it too.”

She shrugs, and he can’t not hug her, even if she’s going to leave tear stains on his lapel.

“So that’s the question, Kurt,” she says when she looks up at him again. “Do you want to end up with Blaine, or not?”

Just then, the band stops playing, and Blaine steps to the microphone, a single spotlight picking him out in the dark. Rachel holds onto Kurt’s arm.

“On behalf of myself and Rachel and Santana and Kurt, I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight and celebrating the new year with us,” he says. “We’re so happy that you could all be here, all of our friends, new and old.”

In the crowd from stage right, Artie shouts, “Hell yes, McKinley!” and Blaine grins.  

“2017 has been a really fantastic year for me in a lot of ways,” Blaine continues. “A really eventful year. I graduated college. My friends and I performed for some great audiences and got written up in _Vanity Fair_ ” — the Supernovas cheer at that — “We moved to New York. I found a place to live and a job and an agent. The most incredible part of all, though, is that I reconnected with Kurt. Kurt, where are you?” Kurt waves sheepishly from the darkness. “Some of you — well, probably all of you — know that Kurt and I were each other’s very first loves. He was everything I ever wanted love to be. After we split up, I told myself that I only thought that because he was my first, and it felt so special because it was new. But being with him again, I know that’s not true. He’s really special to me because he is special. We’re special together. Kurt, this song is for you.”

Blaine goes to sit at the piano. As the stage lights come back up, the band they hired for the night has been replaced with their friends from glee club: Ryder’s on drums, Puck’s playing bass, and Sam’s fidgeting with his guitar strap. Behind the piano, Santana and Mercedes are knocking their shoulders together and giggling. Blaine starts playing, resonant piano chords sounding out alone, and then he opens his mouth to sing.

 _“Maybe I’m amazed at the way you love me all the time_   
_Maybe I’m afraid of the way I love you.”_

There’s another run of notes on the piano, and Ryder starts to play, cymbals sounding out high and clear. It’s hard not to imagine someone else there, and Kurt’s tearing up out of happiness and loss all at once.

 _“Maybe I’m amazed at the way you pulled me out of time and hung me on a line_   
_Maybe I’m amazed at the way I really need you.”_

The girls start singing as the rest of the band comes in: they’re just doing backup _Ahhs_ , but everyone’s putting their all into it, and they sound incredible together.

 _“Maybe I’m a man, maybe I’m a lonely man who’s in the middle of something_   
_That he doesn’t really understand._   
_Maybe I’m a man, and maybe you’re the only one who can ever help me_   
_Won’t you help me understand?”_

Sam starts playing a solo on the electric guitar, and Blaine looks over at him, exultant and joyful, as they rock out together. The music has always been part of what brings them all together, and it’s so good to see how it still connects them. When Blaine repeats the chorus, some of his Supernova friends join in on stage. Rachel squeezes Kurt’s arm again once and runs off, grabbing Isabelle’s hand as she goes, to join the growing throng.

 _“Maybe I'm amazed at the way you're with me all the time_   
_Maybe I'm afraid of the way I need you_   
_Maybe I'm amazed at the way you help me sing my song, right me when I'm wrong_   
_Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you”_

Blaine’s singing full-out, pounding out the chords on the piano as his whole body sways into the song. He’s so lovely and sincere, and he’s everything Kurt hadn’t realized he needs most.

The song turns into a full-scale jam session on stage, and Josh from the Supernovas takes over the piano-playing duties from Blaine. A group of the women take the center microphone, trading vocal runs as everyone sings _“Maybe I’m amazed, maybe I’m amazed.”_ And Blaine steps off the stage, a spotlight following him as he goes, heading over to where Kurt is still standing and watching. Kurt can barely breathe.

“Hi there,” Blaine says when he reaches Kurt, and Kurt has to laugh. Blaine holds up his hand, a conductor’s gesture, and the jam session on stage resolves and fades into silence.

“Kurt,” Blaine says, and it’s loud enough that it carries in the now-quiet room. “I chose this song to sing to you because it’s true. You are amazing. And the two of us together is the best thing I’ve ever known. We still just fit, like we were made for one another. As though even the different paths we’ve taken were only there to bring us back together again. I know that I don’t have to be afraid of needing you with me, because you need me too, and we’re both better together. And now all I want, all I need, is to walk through the rest of my life with you. Hand in hand, forever.” Blaine goes down on one knee, and when he looks up, Kurt sees how scary this is for him as well. “So, Kurt Hummel. My amazing friend. My one true love. Will you marry me?”

There’s only one answer. “Yes. Yes, I will.”

There’s applause and music and people cheering, but all Kurt cares about is Blaine. Blaine in his arms, kissing him fiercely, holding him tight. And then there’s a ring, too, a simple metal band, and a confetti cannon goes off and they’re showered in sparkles of color as they kiss each other again. It’s ridiculous and kitschy and everything Kurt could have ever dreamed it would be.

“Hey, hey, champagne!” cries a familiar voice, and it’s his _dad_ , Blaine got his dad to be here for this, of course he did, because Blaine is perfect and Kurt has to kiss him again.

Dad is dressed up in his best blue suit, and Carole is right there with him, in a dress Kurt picked out for her even, and they’re pouring champagne into plastic champagne flutes and passing them to the crowd. Carole is crying and laughing all at the same time. Kurt throws himself into his father’s arms. Someone takes the champagne bottle and soon Kurt is wrapped up in a warm and familiar hug.

“Good for you, buddy,” says his dad. “Good for you.”

It’s all a whirl of hugs and excitement and drinks after that, until somehow it’s almost midnight and he hasn’t had a chance to dance with his fiance yet. That’s unacceptable. He pulls Blaine away from the crowd of well-wishers and on to the dance floor. Mercedes is on stage, singing “At Last,” and Blaine puts his hand on Kurt’s waist and guides them as they sway together.

“Thank you,” Kurt says after a while. “That was incredible.”

Blaine looks so happy. “I did okay? I’m a little rusty.”

“At singing?” That doesn’t make sense; Blaine does vocal exercises every day.

“At romance.”

Blaine is wearing a beautifully fitted tuxedo and he’s dancing so elegantly with Kurt and they just got engaged in front of all their friends, so clearly Blaine has no problems summoning his romantic side when he puts his mind to it. But Kurt understands what he’s trying to say.

“I thought it was perfectly you,” he says. “I hope you did too.”

Blaine ducks his head a little, abashed. “I’m glad you liked it. I wanted something that was really us, you know? Where we’ve been...”

“Where we’re going...”

Blaine lights up. “Yeah, exactly. All of that. Our friends, and the music, and us.”

“I wasn’t expecting it,” Kurt says. “Not yet.”

“I really surprised you?” Blaine looks delighted. “Well. I realized that if we’re going to be together forever anyway, there’s not a lot of point in waiting. It’s easy to be scared, and sometimes I still am. But I remembered something you said.”

“Me?”

“You.” Blaine pulls him a little closer as they dance. “You told me once that relationships are built on trust. And I realized that trust isn’t a one-time thing. It’s something that you choose, every day.”

“Like I choose you.” Kurt is so full of love for this boy it’s a wonder there’s any room to take a breath.

“And I choose you, Kurt. I do.” Blaine ghosts a kiss against his cheekbone.

“And that doesn’t mean we won’t mess up, both of us — mess up, and hurt each other. But I want you to know, Blaine. I choose to love you and trust you through all of that, knowing that.”

There’s so much more that he wants to say but it’s all jumbled up in his head and he can’t decide what to say first. But Blaine kisses him then, and he knows that Blaine knows all of it already.

The song ends and the sound system switches over to the New Year’s celebration in Times Square. Off to one side of the room, Anderson Cooper’s on TV, holding a microphone and trying to look excited.

“Ten,” everyone shouts. “Nine.”

“I love you,” Blaine says. They haven’t let go.

Kurt rests his forehead against Blaine’s, comfortable and warm. “I love you too.”

Their friends all cheer as the new year begins. Out the window, they can see fireworks going off from the roofs of the surrounding buildings; people marking the new year on their own, joining in celebration against the night sky.

“Here’s to new beginnings,” Kurt says, and they kiss until the world falls away.


End file.
